


The Miko’s Sacrifice

by LuxKen27



Series: By Request [8]
Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Angst, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:04:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4327914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxKen27/pseuds/LuxKen27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She never wanted to be a savior, but now she held humanity’s fate in her hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Miko’s Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paynesgrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paynesgrey/gifts).



> _Author’s Note_ : Written for paynesgrey, on commission for the 2011 help_japan fandom charity auction.
> 
> Disclaimer: The _Inuyasha_ concept, storyline, and characters are copyright Rumiko Takahashi and Viz Media.

~*~

Kikyo glanced up, eyeing the sunlit sky with a trace of suspiciousness. A hint of trepidation prickled the skin at the nape of her neck, which was usually the first sign that something ominous was about to happen. She searched the pale blue morning skyline for the barest note of darkness, but there was none. Nevertheless, she tightened her grip on Kaede’s hand as they continued to walk along the village lane.

They were making their morning rounds, visiting those villagers who had recently sought Kikyo’s aid. It was harvest season, and there were no small amount of farm-related injuries to look after – everything from cuts and bruises, to broken bones, to the superstitious, still hoping to reap a bountiful feast. Kaede carried Kikyo’s bag, stuffed full of medicinal herbs and sacred sutras. She carried it so that Kikyo could wear her bow and a quiver of sacred arrows – one never knew when danger would strike.

They drew to a halt in front of a small, rough-hewn hut. Kaede glanced back at her older sister, confusion furrowing her brow. “Are you coming, sister?” she asked, bracing her arms around the heavy bag.

Kikyo nodded solemnly, pushing a pool of saliva back in her throat. “Of course,” she replied smoothly, taking a step forward, however reluctant. Kaede beamed, pushing through the covering that shielded the entrance.

Kikyo followed, blinking rapidly to allow her eyes to adjust to the cool darkness of the room. The fire pit had been banked, embers still smoking from the previous evening. In the corner was a pallet, piled high with blankets, which shifted as she made her approach. She looked down into the face of one of her oldest and dearest friends, a young woman named Himiko.

“Kikyo,” the girl greeted, her voice thin and reedy. She struggled to sit up, brushing aside her covers and revealing her large, rounded belly.

“Himiko,” Kikyo returned, gracefully kneeling by her side. “You look well.” Tentatively, she reached out, smoothing her hand over the girl’s abdomen. 

“Then I look better than I feel,” Himiko sighed ruefully. “I cannot wait for this child to be born – he gives me no peace.”

As if on cue, Kikyo felt the baby kick. Himiko’s skin was taut beneath her nighttime yukata, warm to the touch, flushed pink in contrast to the creamy linen. “You are not sleeping well?” Kikyo queried, sitting back on her heels.

Himiko shook her head, reaching up to scrape her sweaty hair away from her shoulders. “Please tell me I am due soon,” she pleaded. “I feel so full that I’m about to burst!”

Kikyo smiled. “You are,” she confirmed, “but until your baby comes, you should keep to your bed. I’ll give you something to ease your pain and help you sleep.” She motioned for Kaede, who dutifully deposited the bag at Kikyo’s side. With the merest moment’s search, Kikyo withdrew her hand, holding out three small packets of dried herbs.

“Blend these into a tea, and drink it at mealtimes,” she instructed, demonstrating the amounts of each to use. “Even if you can’t eat, you should drink this.”

Himiko glanced up at her as she took the sachets. “And I will sleep?” she asked doubtfully, seeking reassurance. 

“Yes,” Kikyo replied, placing a warm hand over her friend’s. “I’ll come back tomorrow to check on you.”

Himiko smiled as she slipped back down into bed. “Thank you,” she whispered, clutching the packets between her fingers.

Kikyo nodded again, making to stand. She turned suddenly as sunlight filled the small room, shielding her eyes with one hand as the other instinctively found her bow. The door covering fell again, revealing Himiko’s husband, his eyes wide and his chest heaving.

“Date said you were here,” he said breathlessly, rushing to his wife’s side. “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” Kikyo replied, laying her hand on his arm. She drew him away, lowering her voice in confidence. “She will deliver soon – perhaps tomorrow, or the day after that. She is in a great deal of pain, so I’ve given her herbs to make a tea. Please make sure she drinks it as instructed. It will relax her, and help her body prepare for delivery.”

Himiko’s husband nodded, wringing his hands together. For a long moment, his eyes searched Kikyo’s, the intensity of his study causing her heart to flutter against her ribs. He was tall and handsome, compactly built and tanned from his work in the fields. In another life, she had fancied him – before her training as a miko.

He took her hand between both of his, clasping it tightly. “She will be okay?” he asked worriedly. “She has struggled from the start with him.” He spared a brief glance over his shoulder at his wife.

Kikyo curled her hand into a fist, reaching deep inside herself, looking for the strength to give this man an answer. “It will not be easy,” she finally said, “but I do believe she’ll make it through just fine.”

He nodded, releasing her hand. “Thank you, Kikyo,” he whispered. “You have kept her hale and whole for this long – I have no doubt you will be able to continue to keep her that way.”

Kikyo averted her eyes from his, turning to face her sister as the blood drained from her face. She had no idea at all if her friend would live long enough to deliver her child; the other women she had seen in this level of agony so close to birth had not seen happy fates. She bit her lip as the man she’d once loved crouched by her friend’s side, spikes of guilt and remorse slicing through her. _Sometimes lying is the best course_ , she reminded herself silently. _There is no need for them to suffer more than they already are_.

A cold wind greeted Kikyo and Kaede as they exited the hut; the sky was noticeably darker now, causing the farmers in the field to look up with concern. Kaede shivered. “Feels like rain,” she remarked absently, sliding her hand into her sister’s.

“Hmm,” Kikyo mused. Her stomach was churning, though she was not yet sure if it was because of the darkening skies, or because of her own heavy heart, weighted down with despair. So much had changed in the last five years; one of the most difficult things about her miko’s training had always been tending to pregnant women. It had only become harder now that her friends in the village were marrying and bearing children – it only served to sharpen the contrast between their lives and hers. 

Though powerful and respected, becoming a miko had never been her choice. Following the tragic deaths of her parents, however, there was little else she could do. She had to care for her sister, and there was nothing else suited to a single young woman. It suited her personality well; she was more practical than romantic.

Still, as she reached the age of motherhood, she couldn’t help but long for the chance to be ordinary – to find a husband, to have a child, to care for a hearth instead of an entire village. It was not completely unheard of for a miko to have a family, but her profession certainly shortened her chances. Men either feared her or revered her: they saw the art instead of the woman.

Thunder broke overhead, drawing Kikyo from her brooding. The sky was now black, thick with dark clouds and threatening rain. She narrowed her eyes, redoubling her grip on Kaede’s hand. _This is no ordinary storm_ , she surmised, feeling the heaviness of the ominous darkness permeate the air.

“Come,” she commanded, hurrying her pace as she made for home, her strides long and determined. Kaede rushed to keep up, her lips drawing into a thin line; Kikyo wondered if she sensed it, too.

If she could, that meant trouble indeed.

They had only just made it back to their hut beside the torii gates when the heavens opened. Rain pelted against the door covering as they ducked inside. A peek out the window confirmed that the others had taken shelter as well; the village lane was deserted, everyone huddling inside their homes, no doubt worrying that their fields would be flooded before their crops could be harvested.

Kikyo sighed, pressing her back against the wall and rubbing her hand across her temple. The churn of her stomach had only gotten worse; her joints were beginning to ache as a tide of fear threatened – the villagers’ fears, her own, as well as whatever fate was about to bring to her door. She’d only ever experienced anxiety this strong once before, early in her training, before she knew how to draw on and fortify her spiritual power.

It was slightly unnerving that it was happening again.

“K-Kikyo?”

Kikyo shifted, her eyes falling to her little sister, who was shaking like a leaf. She swallowed hard, tamping back her own trepidation as she reached for Kaede, wrapping her arms around her. “It’ll be okay,” she said soothingly.

“What’s happening?” Kaede asked, her voice trembling as she clung to her sister. 

Before Kikyo could respond, the covering at the entrance of their hut was hurled aside, startling the both of them. Kikyo tightened her arms protectively around her sister, squeezing her eyes shut for the smallest of moments, wondering if she could simply will away whatever trouble awaited her.

“Kikyo-sama?” intoned a deep, muffled voice. “Are you Kikyo-sama?”

After drawing a deep breath, Kikyo stood, releasing Kaede and turning to face the person who had addressed her. A man stood in the doorway of the hut, dressed in black from head to toe. A metal mask gleamed against his face, covering his nose and mouth but leaving his eyes uncovered. Metal plates covered his arms and legs and torso, colored gold and held in place with bright strips of dyed leather.

“I am,” Kikyo replied after a long moment, confirming her identity. “And you are a taijiya, no?”

The man’s brows lifted in surprise. “Hai,” he responded, reaching up with his free hand and unclasping the mask. He took a step forward, allowing the covering to fall back into place, before falling to one knee before her. “I have come to seek your assistance,” he continued, bowing his head in a respectful nod.

Kaede clutched at Kikyo’s hand, watching the scene unfold from behind her sister’s voluminous hakama. “What’s a taijiya?” she asked, her whispered question more noisy than soft.

“A demon-slayer,” Kikyo explained, her tone cool as she gazed at the man’s bowed head. She had heard talk of them, but had never actually seen one in person. Warily, she wondered what sort of “assistance” this man had in mind.

“Arise,” she commanded stonily, already on her guard. Taijiya of legend were primarily good, fighting the same evils the miko occasionally faced. Anyone travelling with such darkness immediately aroused her suspicion, however; she had never known humans to carry something this ominous – something which reeked of death and destruction.

“Kikyo-sama,” the man began, cradling his metal mask in his hand, “your reputation has spread far beyond these village walls. We have heard of the strength of your spiritual power, and you are the only one who can save us.”

“‘Us’?” Kikyo inquired curiously.

The man grabbed her wrist, pulling her forward and pushing aside the door covering once again. “Us,” he repeated grimly.

Kikyo swallowed a surprised gasp as she gazed at the sight before her – dozens of warriors fell to their knees before her, lowering their weapons and bowing their heads. They were all dressed similarly to the man who still held her wrist, covered in metal armor and masks, dulled and rusted by travel and weather.

“I don’t understand,” Kikyo finally said, breaking the silence that surrounded them.

“We have traveled a great distance,” the mysterious man at her side explained, “seeking someone who has the power to purify the jewel.” His grip on her wrist softened as he led her forward, into the rain and into the circle of his men. They halted in front of man lying prone on a makeshift pallet, his breathing heavy and jagged as he clutched something to his chest.

“This is my father,” the man at her side murmured. “During our last youkai extermination, he slayed a demon who had this in his belly.” With trembling fingers, he pried his father’s hands open, revealing a small, round jewel which pulsated with life. A glimmer of white light pierced the otherwise darkened jewel.

“It’s the Shikon no Tama,” the man continued, “and it was borne of a great warrior priestess. It holds a great deal of power – power that can be used for good or evil.” He shook his head. “It hasn’t been used for good in thousands of years, and as you can see, it is now corrupted, almost beyond repair.” He gestured at the old man’s withered hands, burned and blackened and gnarled. “My father is the strongest among us, and it has nearly taken his life. Please, Kikyo-sama, we ask that you purify the jewel.”

Kikyo’s heart beat heavily in her chest as she stared at the prone man, struggling for every breath that he took. His eyes were open, wide and pleading, and it took all of his strength and force of will to hold out what was left of his hands. Darkness permeated the air around them, heavy and thick with shrouded fear. The jewel seemed to thrive on this energy, the oily blackness beginning to crowd out the little speck of light.

She reached out, plucking the jewel from the man’s hands, expecting it to burn her as it had him – but instead, it was cool to the touch, smooth and hard and heavy for its size. Almost immediately, the darkness began to dissipate, replaced with a rosy pink light that shimmered almost white. She released a breath she didn’t even know she was holding as she cradled the jewel in her palms.

All around her, the men breathed deep sighs of relief – all except the old man lying on the ground. He closed his hands over his chest, his eyes falling shut, his breathing completely stilling. The man at Kikyo’s side slipped to the ground beside him, brushing the graying hair from his brow, closing his hand over his father’s shoulder. He whispered a few quiet words before releasing him, rising to his feet once more and turning to face Kikyo.

“The Shikon no Tama is incredibly powerful,” he said solemnly. “But more than that – it is easily corrupted. The force of this evil has taken my father’s life, and I beg of you – don’t let it take anyone else’s.” His hands brushed against hers, closing her hands around the jewel. “Please, Kikyo-sama – you are the only person powerful enough to insure the sacred purity of the jewel, to keep Midoriko’s spirit alive and fighting inside it. Please tell me you’ll watch over it, and keep it from those who wish to corrupt it again.”

 _Midoriko_. The name resonated within her and caused the jewel to pulsate, warming between her palms. She looked up, meeting the man’s somber gaze, and wondered if he realized just what he was asking of her. Protecting this jewel – keeping it pure and free from demonic influence – would require her to be pure as well.

For a moment, she allowed herself to feel the warmth of this man’s hands, the gentle brush of his fingers against hers. She lifted her eyes, watching the rain as it pelted down on him, plastering his dark hair against his forehead, running in rivulets over the smooth contours of his face. Her heart ached as she stared, and felt, and longed to be someone other than who she was.

“Do you understand what you’re asking of me?” she inquired softly.

He squeezed her hands. “You have the gift,” he replied. “You have the power to save us all.”

 _Even if it means giving up my own life?_ she thought silently. 

She gave a minute shake of her head as her eyes fell to their joined hands. _I never wanted this_ , she wanted to cry out. _I never wanted to be a savior!_ She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing away the painful images that rushed to the fore: of finding a husband – of having a baby of her own – of sinking into an anonymous, ordinary life, responsible only for her family’s wellbeing.

If she did this, then never again could she want those things, or feel jealous or wistful of those who had them.

It was the miko’s sacrifice.

She exhaled sharply, opening her eyes and meeting the taijiya’s gaze once more. She didn’t know if he spoke the truth – if she was the _only_ person who could sanctify the jewel and protect it from harm – but he and his men had obviously travelled far in order to seek her out. Could she honestly tell him no, that her life was more important than his – or his father’s, or anybody else’s? That her own personal happiness, already an uphill battle to fulfill, was worth more to her than keeping her fellow human beings safe?

“Okay,” she finally agreed. “I’ll do it.”

He nodded silently, his hands falling away from hers as he fell to one knee before her, bowing his head. “Thank you, Kikyo-sama,” he replied reverently. “We will never forget this. If you ever require our assistance, it is yours, no questions asked.”

Kikyo opened her hands, staring down at the jewel, still shimmering with rosy pink light. Now, more than ever, it seemed her life had never been destined to be her own.


End file.
